Another Day Older
by Keridwen89
Summary: A challenging event causes the team to rethink and reevaluate their lives, seek new challenges and tie up loose ends, of which, clearly, there are many.
1. Agendas

**A/N: Hi! I'm Kate, and I'm 16! (there, basic intro out of the way... :D) This is my first House fic, but I am not a complete virgin to the FF world, I've been writing Crossing Jordan ones for a while now, so I'm not all green! Well I'm not quite sure where this one is going, but I'm proud of the fact I could actually pick up a pen to write this, writing a House one has been an intimidating thought for a while! Anyway, have a read, tell me what you think, my aim is to improve!**

**I'm from Australia and we're only up to 'Clueless' here so forgive me for any misdemeanors that arise from this lack of knowledge! (Needless to say, the rest of the season is much anticipated)**

**Oh I almost forgot... of course I do not own any of the characters blah blah, if I did you could arrest me because I think it's illegal to own people! Of course I could be wrong... whips out copy of the constitution**

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**Chapter 1: Agendas**

The rain hammered down, washing the city in a coat of moisture . People hurried down streets, coats pulled tight around their bodies, hats down, casting shadows over their eyes and protecting their faces from the worst of the rain. They moved meticulously, like they needed to _be _somewhere, like they had some higher purpose to attend to. Which, of course, they did not. The likes of putting dinner on the table for your husband, or helping your son with his homework, or fixing your daughters bike was not really the stuff of legends. Still, the people scurried, oblivious to all but their own agendas and the rain that seemed to be angry, pursuing them relentlessly into their shelters.

There were two, however, who could add even the pelting rain to their list of indifferences. They sat at opposite ends of a glass table, flipping through charts and jotting things down. One of the two let his pen drop on the paper, and sighed heavily, looking up. His eyes were borderline bloodshot, and his blonde hair messed up where he had run his hand through it repeatedly. It had been a tough few days, their foe in the form of an illness evading them until it took the life of their patient. He opened his mouth, and addressed his colleague.

"Coffee?" He smiled quietly to himself, his eloquence always succeeded in amazing him.

Cameron looked up, also putting her pen down. "Yeah, why not?"

Chase nodded and turned to the sink.

"If he's got any say in it," Cameron continued, and gestured to the adjoining office, "we'll be here all night."

Chase followed her gaze to where House and Wilson sat, drinking what was certainly not coffee, and watching the small television.

"Apparently their apartment is getting fumigated," Chase said, smile on his face as he turned back to the sink and switched on the kettle.

A knock on the glass door sent the two heads turning to place the origin of the noise. Chase frowned, wondering how the man had gotten access to the floor at this time of night, when the clinic was closed and none but the closest relatives of patients were allowed to stay. Then he spotted the pizzas in the man's hand, and raised an eyebrow, suspecting the culprit. Chase moved to the door and opened it.

The rain-soaked man pulled the pizzas out of the thermo-bag, and said in a dull, tired voice;

"One large half-vegetarian, half-seafood, one large half-meatlovers, half-supreme."

The delivery man rattled off a price, and Chase turned to House, who met his eyes through the glass, and shrugged, a look of feigned innocence on his face. Chase sighed, and flipped out his wallet, handing the man some notes and waving off the change. The fellow looked a bit strained, no doubt, Chase thought, he'd been picked apart by security. He took the pizzas back into the room and put them down on the table in front of Cameron, who shook her head in mock exasperation, having followed the look that passed between House and his employee. The aroma was appetizing, especially after hours without food, and she opened the box with relish. House pushed open the glass door connecting the two rooms and went over to the table, picking up the half-meatlovers, half-supreme pizza. Chase scowled at the offender, but was met with only a grin. House chucked the pizza onto his friend's lap when he reached the office.

Wilson wrinkled his nose, his gourmet side offended.

"I can't believe we're eating this crap," he complained.

"Oh come on!" House urged. "Its better than fish and chips, now, isn't it?"

Wilson shrugged. In truth he didn't really mind pizza, but felt it was someone's place to whinge about something.

"I'll bet Foreman wishes he hadn't gone home sick now," Chase said sarcastically, and Cameron grinned.

"Oh yes," she said. "He'd sure love this, coffee, pizza and paperwork."

Three quarters of an hour later, Cameron threw down her pen with an air of triumph.

"Done," she informed her colleague, who scowled, and scribbled all the faster. A short time later, Chase had also finished. Cameron offered to take the appropriate information down to the morgue. Chase nodded, and she left the room, leaving him to file the rest of it. He finished, and sat on the chair, waiting for Cameron to return.

Chase's head snapped up, however, when her voice reached his ears. He couldn't make out what she was saying, but did not need to when he saw her. A man accompanied her, gripping her forearm, pulling her along roughly. Chase stood up and hastened to the pair.

"What's going on?" he asked, but stopped abruptly as he glimpsed the steel that the man was clutching and pushing into Cameron's back.

"Woah," he said, instinctively attempting to placate the man with the gun.

"Get in there," the man said gruffly. He was tall, but only a little taller than Chase. His hair was jet black and unkempt. The man had dark circles around his eyes, and his movements were lethargic, he seemingly had not had much in the way of sleep.

Chase backed into the office, meeting Cameron's eyes, and being surprised to find them devoid of fear. He frowned, and his eyes flew to House, who had stood up, stormy-faced, and was coming towards them. The man pushed Cameron away from him, and she kept her balance but moved as far as she could away from the man, coming to stand next to Chase. His eyes questioned her but she shook her head.

"Bit of a stormy night, isn't it?" House asked, but there was no joviality in his tone. His eyes remained fixed on the man's face, and he could see the gun out of the corner of his eye. Wilson was instantly alarmed, as you generally are when there is a gun pointed at the faces of people you know. He kept his mouth shut, however, not having any idea as to what to say to placate this man. Wilson was on edge for that very reason, regarding House, who was likely to say something inflammatory and get them all killed.

"Yeah," the man replied coldly. "Real stormy."

"Might I ask as to your business?" House asked blandly.

Both Wilson and Chase flinched at the sarcasm present in his voice, but the gunman seemed not to notice.

"Yeah, you might," the man said.

House raised his eyebrows in question, gesturing for the man to continue.

"I got nothing against you people, okay?" the man began.

"Sure looks that way," House retorted.

"House…" Wilson muttered. His friend ignored him.

The gunman ignored the remark, and Cameron studied him. If she was as angry as he obviously was, she would be incensed by the smart-assed comments, but this man seemed to let them slide off him. He was telling the truth, they were just a means to an end. The man continued in his narrative.

"I hid out in the bathroom on this floor because it was the least crowded one."

The four assembled let him talk, it went through all of their minds that the longer he did so, the more chance they had of walking away unscathed.

"I saw the light on, I was about to come in and this one walked by. It was too good an opportunity to pass up." He was babbling, Cameron thought. The man clearly wasn't thinking straight. She studied him, taking in his disheveled appearance. Patients family, perhaps? Why hold a gun to a bunch of doctors' heads?

"I want Dr. Cuddy. I want to speak to her."

"She's not here," House said. Wilson's eye flickered momentarily, knowing that what House said was a lie. He'd seen her in her office not half an hour before, even if she were gone, House was not to know that.

The man smiled. "I don't believe you."

House turned to Wilson. "Put that on the record, okay?" He turned back to the man. "What you believe is irrelevant."

"Not to me."

House narrowed his eyes slightly. "Indeed. But the person you are looking for is not here. Perhaps you should try to make contact tomorrow? I could even make you an appointment. I'll leave a message on her machine, if you would like."

Cameron winced as a flash of anger finally made it's way to the man's face.

"I know she is here, I know you're lying! Call her, now!" He shouted the last two words, but House did not seem to notice. He shrugged.

"I can call. Can't guarantee she'll come flying down to the hospital in her nightgown and frantically pick up the phone though…"

The man had had enough. He lifted his gun, pointing it at Cameron's head. She glared at him, seemingly unfazed. House watched her, committing her indifference to memory.

The man looked at House. "Now I'm sure a man of your obvious…. class," he began, with an exquisitely timed pause, "would not want blood all over his carpet."

"Blood is a real bitch to get out," House agreed, but all heard the obvious strain in his voice. Possibilities were flying through his mind. To call Cuddy up here would be to put her in danger. This guy was obviously after her. But to not call her… well the alternative was unthinkable. He glared at the man, before reaching down to the telephone and dialing.

Wilson sighed in relief, the chronic danger of getting another person in here was better than the immediate danger of Cameron getting her brains blown out.

"No funny business," the man warned House. "First sign you're warning her and I'll have this little bitch on the floor with not enough time to even scream."

House wrinkled his nose.

"How distasteful. I thought a man of _your_ obvious class would think of something better than that to say."

"House?"

"Again, your psychic powers amaze me."

The man frowned and pushed the speakerphone button.

"It's called caller ID. What do you want?"

"I want you to come up here."

"Oh? Well I want to go to France. Goodnight."

"There is someone up here to see you," House replied.

"Yeah. Sure. I'm tired and I'm going home. You should probably do the same."

House looked to the man, who gestured for him to continue. It was imperative to the gunman that the woman on the other end had no idea of the nature of his visit.

"I really think you should come up here now," House said. Maybe, he thought, if he sounded sincere that would be strange enough to put her on her guard. When she made to hang up, he stepped away from the phone and shrugged at the gunman, whose face went stormy.

"Dr. Cuddy," he began.

"Who is this?"

Wilson closed his eyes as the man revealed himself and his intent, giving Cuddy five minutes to get up to the Diagnostics department. Any 'funny business', he said, would result in the morgue having a few extra charges for the night.

She joined them, a hard look in her eye, within the designated five minutes. She stopped at the door when she saw who it was.

"Oh God, Brian," was all she said.

"Get in here," he snarled at her, all his anger seeming to unleash at the sight of her.

"Renegade boyfriends again, Cuddy?" House snarked. She ignored him.

"You bitch," Brian said quietly. His eyes went red and it seemed that she had opened floodgates. "You murdered my wife."

"Jealous lovers tiff, perhaps?" House changed his guess, but no one was listening. "Though I did think murder was beyond you."

"The decision was not mine alone, Brian, and it was for the best."

"My wife's murder was for the best?" Brian roared.

"She was brain damaged, she never would have been the same. That heart went to someone else who could use…"

Brian cut her off. The tears were running openly down his face.

"I don't want you to die, Cuddy," he said, trying to drag his raging emotions into line.

"Good," she muttered.

"I want you to suffer as I have."

He turned, and before anyone could do anything, a shot rang out. A surprised gasp ensued from Cameron's mouth as she fell to the floor, clutching at her shoulder. An angry red patch immediately became apparent on her coat and Wilson, who was closest, knelt down and attempted to staunch the flow. Cameron's teeth were gritted hard as the pain slammed into her, again and again. The agony was not aided by Wilson's damned pressure, but she knew it had to be done. The man seemed shocked at what he had done, but rose to the situation and pointed it at Chase.

"On your knees, now!"

House shook his head violently at Chase, as Brian's back was facing him. Chase caught the movement but did not acknowledge it, so Brian would not suspect anything.

"No," he said, trying to remain calm. Brian stepped closer, and this one movement was all House needed. He had been inching closer and closer as the interchange was going on and now he was just close enough to….

There was an almighty crack as House put all his force behind his cane and slammed it into the offenders head. The gunman dropped like a rock, and Chase kicked the gun into the corner of the room. Cuddy scrambled for the phone and punched a hasty '911' into the keypad.

"Police!" she barked into the phone.

House chanced a glace to where Cameron lay, trying to lifet her head of the ground, batting away the attentions of Wilson and Chase.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, but her mouth betrayed her as the sounds did not come out properly. Her head span as she sat up, and the dizziness, combined with the shock of being shot and the blood loss she had suffered, caused her to black out, and she slumped back, finally compliant, onto the predicted bloodstained carpet.


	2. Conspiracy

**A/N: Hi again - thank you so much to everyone for your reviews.**

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****Chapter 2: Conspiracy**

"Suddenly got better once you realized you were missing out on all the fun?" Cameron asked of Foreman as he walked into the room she'd been put in the night before. The bullet had been removed from her upper arm earlier that morning, and the arm itself was recovering, there had been no lasting damage, she would need physiotherapy to regain full control of the arm, but nothing she couldn't take care of herself. She had been lucky, unlike the gunman. House had really given him a wallop, as the doctor's need for a new cane had proved. He was still out of it, and guarded securely by police.

"It's always the way of it," Foreman replied. "When I was at school, there wouldn't be a fight for ages, but the day I was away…" He shook his head. "It's a conspiracy!"

Cameron grinned weakly back. She was still a little shaken up over the previous night's events, but was holding it together rather well. Foreman left after a while, lunch break ended, and Cameron was left to mull things over. She was grateful, however, that her thoughts were interrupted by Chase not long after Foreman had left.

"Morning," he said.

"Afternoon," she replied. He grinned sheepishly.

"I would have dropped by earlier," he said, "but I had some things to chase up."

"Sure," she said.

"So when do you get out of here?"

"As soon as humanely possible. Best thing is, I get two weeks off work! Lost time injury, or something like that. I'm sure Cuddy thought I was going to sue."

A strange look came over Chase's face and he looked at Cameron.

"What a good idea," he said quietly.

Cameron laughed. "Yeah I could just imagine you suing Cuddy."

Chase looked at her, laughing as well. "It would be an experience! You going to take the two weeks?"

Cameron shook her head. "Nope."

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"I would go crazy sitting at home," she said, and he nodded, knowing what she meant.

They lapsed into silence.

"Chase?" Cameron ventured. He gestured for her to continue. "What would we have to say for our lives if we had died last night?"

Chase had suspected something like this was forthcoming, but still was not prepared for the fact he had no answer.

"I don't know," he said, then laughed shakily. "Surely someone would miss us?"

Cameron didn't smile. "I don't know that anyone would," she said. He surveyed her.

"I would miss me," Chase joked. She forced a laugh.

"Oh I bet you would."

They fell silent again, thoughts whirling around in Chase's head, the beginning of an idea forming.

"We need to do something spontaneous," he mused, and she laughed.

"Last time we tried that it was a bit of a wash-out."

Chase laughed at the memory of their encounter.

Cameron continued. "But you're right. We should take a holiday or something."

"Well you know… two weeks…" Chase said, his idea falling into place.

She cocked her head and looked at him.

"Where would I go?"

It was the break Chase needed to broach the subject.

"I was also thinking," he began.

"That would be a first," came a voice from the door. They looked up, House stood there.

"I need to know," he directed at Cameron. "Are you taking those two weeks offered by Cuddy?"

She smiled, hoping it was his way of saying 'are you okay?'

"No," she said. "I'll be back at work on Monday.

"Seeing as it's Friday…" he said. "Isn't that a bit soon? I need you fully operational."

"Yes, because a little bit of an arm defect is really going to stop me. If I'm not, as you put it, 'fully operational', then I can always just skimp on the 'practical' side of things for a few extra days. My mind wasn't melted along with my arm."

When House still looked dubious, she continued.

"Any violent patients or ex-cons you need subdued, I'm sure Foreman and Chase can handle them, just until I regain full strength." There was a smile in her eyes, and House shook his head, trying not to laugh along with Chase at the image of Cameron subduing a burly prisoner.

"Well that's all I needed to know," he said. Chase stood up.

"I'll come by later," he said, and left abruptly, puzzling the two left in the room.

"Do you want me to take the two weeks?" Cameron asked, half-joking, half-serious.

"No," he said. "Then I'd have to hire a replacement for that duration! That was a terrible experience last time."

Cameron couldn't suppress a smile. "I know. Wilson was saying."

"Was he just?" House asked, surprised tone to his voice. There was a pause.

"Was there something else?" Cameron asked, too tired to play games.

House regarded her. "You are very strange."

"Why thankyou," she replied, not missing a beat.

He continued. "Last night…"

"Mm?"

"You did not seem all that fazed. You know, for a gun in your face kind of situation, you seemed… okay."

"Observational skills continue to amaze me," she said, wincing as a pain shot through her arm.

"In pain?" he asked.

"Mm," she replied, closing her eyes momentarily.

"Need drugs?" he asked jokingly.

She shook her head in dissent, and opened her eyes, waiting for him to go on. When he did not, she spoke.

"Was there a point to that statement."

"I'm just curious."

"As usual."

"You've been in a situation like that before."

"Think about it," she said, deciding to start playing a few games of her own. "If I had, wouldn't it be more likely for me to have been more afraid? Your deduction said I was less afraid."

He surveyed her. "That's what I'm asking. Either you read a hell of a lot of crime novels where the people who have guns in their faces escape unscathed, or you…"

"Or I what? Have the ability to read people?"

"You don't, not really," he argued. "In fact, with you, I've noticed quite the opposite. You're always willing to believe what's in front of your face, unquestioningly. I'd say a gun is kind of strong as far as that sort of thing is concerned. So," he continued. The anomaly was becoming clearer and his first deduction more and more likely. "You can read people with guns. Is it the make? The bullet type?" he quipped at the end, to seem not as concerned as the curiosity implied.

She shook her head deprecatingly at him, trying to finish the conversation. Her past wasn't her strongest talking point.

"You knew he wasn't going to kill you," House continued. "Anyone."

"He was a perfect shot," she said, finally letting him see something. "You could see his hand, he knew what he was doing. As upset as he was, if it was his intent to kill, he would have done so."

"So you only weren't scared after he shot you?" House said disbelievingly.

"That's not what I said."

"So you weren't answering my question."

"No, House, I wasn't, and I don't think I need to. What does it matter?"

She knew him well, she thought, because at the 'm' word, he backed up in his questioning.

"Get well soon," he said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice as he turned and left the room.

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A knock on Cuddy's door sent her head snapping up. She was jumpy, Chase observed, and rightfully so. They'd all come within inches of being blown away the night before, and she would be painfully aware that it was because of her.

"Dr. Chase," she said, gesturing for him to come in. "What can I do for you?"

"I just received news from home," he began. "My cousin's daughter just died."

"I'm sorry," Cuddy said, not knowing where he was going with the information.

"She and I have been friends for years," he said. "And I wouldn't ask if it was not important to me."

"Ask what?"

"I'd like a couple of weeks leave to go visit her."

"A couple of weeks?" Cuddy asked. "Where does she live?"

"Australia…" he replied, having said as much at the start.

Cuddy nodded. "Of course she does…" she said, and he got the feeling she said it more to herself than him.

"If that's not okay, I understand…" he prompted.

"Your holidays are overdue, anyway," she said. "Of course you can have two weeks." She rummaged in her drawer and handed him two sheets of paper, one carbonated. "Fill this out, original to me, carbon copy to House."

He nodded his thanks and left the room.

Chase felt bad about lying. He truly did want to see his cousin, but last he heard, her daughter was still alive and well.

"It's all the same in the end anyway," he muttered to himself as he walked away.

The next day, as Cameron was dressing and fussing about, preparing to leave the hospital (against medical advice) Chase popped his head around the door.

"Wanna come to Australia?" he asked, grinning.  
"Sure, let me just go jump on the plane, I'll see you there," she replied.

Chase came into the room.

"I'm serious," he said.

Cameron stopped what she was doing and sat on the bed, unconsciously rubbing her left upper arm.

"Why?" was all she could get out.

"You could use a holiday, I'm going to Australia, why don't you come?"

"Why are you going?"

"To see my family," he replied, as if it was the simplest answer on earth. "I was going to put the thought to you when I was here earlier, but I didn't want House… being House."

"Ha," Cameron said dryly, recalling the conversation she'd had earlier with the object of their discussion.

"So?"

"I can't just up and fly half way across the country!" she protested.

"Why?" Chase said.

She opened her mouth, and shut it again. "I'm sure Foreman would feed your goldfish."

"I don't have a goldfish," she said, slowly warming to the idea.

"Any pets?"

"No."

"Then its settled!" Chase said.

Cameron paused. "Why do you want me to come?"

He shrugged. "I thought I was being nice. You said we should _do_ something _different _so I took you at your word!"

"Chase, I don't know. Let me think about it, okay?"

He nodded. "Of course. I'm leaving next Monday. Should be enough time for us both to get collected."

"That soon?" Cameron exclaimed. "How'd you do that?"

"Like you said," Chase replied, "Cuddy was facing liability."

"You blackmailed her?" Cameron asked jokingly, unable to believe it.

Chase held a hand to his heart as if wounded. "No!" he said. "Though it was tempting…" he added, grinning. "According to her, holidays were 'well overdue'."

His pager startled them both, and he opened it and scowled. "Well that's Big Brother calling, so I'm off. I'll see you on the plane!"

He smiled, and left the room. Cameron shook her head, not having a single clue what to think.


	3. Spur of the Moment

**A/N: Well... what can one say about chapter 3::thinks: Nothing, apparently! ;) Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 3: Spur of the Moment**

"Any other symptoms?" House asked of the woman in front of him, trying to sound at least remotely engaged.

"No, just this god-awful pain in my shoulder!" the red-haired woman explained earnestly. "Although last week I did get this terrible headache."

"Have you changed your daily routine in the last week or so?"

"Well," the woman said, clearly having to think. "I did get a weekend job at this fish and chip place…" She seemed embarrassed. "Just to try and get these debts paid off, you know?"

"Shift length?" he asked, ignoring her explanation, not caring if she was the CEO of Microsoft or a casual at Greasy Joe's.

"10 hours," she replied. He sighed inwardly, standing up and walking towards the door.

"Well," he said heavily. "You're a medical mystery. An enigma. My limited general knowledge of medicine does not allow for a diagnosis at this stage in the progression of your symptoms."

The woman looked concerned.

"However," House said, as if he had just had a 'eureka' moment. "I do have a colleague upstairs who specializes in the shoulder! If I were you, I'd take a hike up there and see what she has to say. Either that, or you spare $5 from your repayments to invest in a bottle of deep heat."

He opened the door and walked out, rolling his eyes as he went, though there was a smile on his face. He was in a surprisingly good mood today, for some, unknown reason. He put a hand in his pocket and felt the weight of his Vicodin bottle, wondering if perhaps it was possible he'd had a little too much last dose. His mood quickly turned sour at the sight of his stormy-faced boss making a beeline towards him. He quickly turned on his heel and almost ran into a girl of about seventeen who was walking behind him. House grabbed her arm to steady her, and saw in her an opportunity.

"So," he said. "The pain has gotten worse?"

A bewildered expression crossed the girl's face. House jerked his head towards the rapidly advancing Cuddy, and the girl grinned as it dawned on her.

"Oh doctor," she said loudly. "Do you think I'll make it?"

"Unlikely," he said gravely, shaking his head. She immediately pretended to burst into tears, and threw herself at the doctor. He patted her back, sympathy evident on his face.

"There there," he said soothingly. "At least you can choose your own coffin!"

The girl snorted with laughter into him, but managed to make it sound like she was still bawling her eyes out.

"Dr. House," Cuddy said, eyeing the figure whose shoulders were shaking, seemingly with pain, with wariness.

"I'm a little busy here!" he hissed, and continued making soothing noises and comments that the girl found hysterically amusing, adding to effect.

Cuddy raised a knowing eyebrow and tapped the girl on the shoulder.

"Welcome to New Jersey, Rachel," she said.

The girl pulled away from House, the tears (of laughter) coursing down her face. She immediately turned off the act, however, when she saw the face of the person who had touched her.

"Aunt Lisa!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms about the surprised doctor, as House looked on in shock.

Taking advantage of the situation, House quietly slipped away. "Remind me to thank that girl," he muttered on the quiet.

A raised voice made him turn his head, and he spied Cameron walking fast towards the administration desk, face flustered.

"Must be Monday," House mused.

House shut up when he saw the figure who was following her. He was tall, rugged, and looked to be in his early thirties. His face was a picture of anger as he called out to Cameron to stop. When she ignored him and kept walking, he reached out and grabbed her right arm, pulling her around to face him. House took an involuntary step forward, and listened.

"Let go," Cameron said in a low, dangerous voice.

"Just tell me the combination and you'll never hear from me again," the man said huskily. Cameron closed her eyes, steeling herself.

"Go to hell," she finally said. His grip on her arm tightened.

"Tell me, damn you!" he snarled.

"Leave now, or I'll call security," she said.

House had had enough. He hurried over to the pair.

"Everything alright here?"

Cameron, who had been trying to stare her harasser down, almost jumped at his voice, but she couldn't contain the look of sheer relief that washed over her face as the man let go his vice-like grip on her arm. The man glared at House, who raised an eyebrow comically. The hostile man's gaze was dragged back to Cameron.

"This is not finished," he hissed, before storming out of the front doors. Cameron watched him go, neutral expression on her face. She closed her eyes, allowing her anger to dissipate.

"Thank you," she directed at House, and made to walk away. He took her arm before she could, and rolled up the sleeve, noting the flesh that had already started to bruise. He let her arm drop.

"Who was that?"

She surveyed him coldly. "I appreciate your concern, Dr. House, but I am not in the mood for the 20 questions thing, or for satiating your curiosity. Let's just say my taste in men leaves a lot to be desired," she said, proud of her ability to deflect the question and have a dig at the asker at the same time.

She turned on her heel and stepped into the just-opened elevator. When the doors closed, she pressed the button for the top floor and leaned against the back wall, letting out a sigh. Seeing Andy again was a shock to her, and an unpleasant one at that. He had just wanted something from her,as he always did.Perpetually wanting. She let her mind fly back to four years ago, and their brief liaison. She had had no idea what she was getting herself into when she got involved with him, and she had thought she had left that world far behind when she had come here. She closed her eyes, trying to expel the image of his face in hers, demanding the 'combination', one she did not have, not anymore. His damned paranoia was coming back to slam into her life, once again. She tried to rationalize it, going through the event in her mind. All that time ago, Andy's brother, Ben, who was a good friend to her, had entrusted to her the combination of a safe, one that contained a lot of his wealth and personal possessions, in the event of something happening to him. Andy had found out about this, and suspecting that she had been unfaithful to him with his brother, plotted to steal the contents of the safe from Ben, framing her for the act. She had gotten wind of his plan, and knew that, now they were effectively 'over' in his mind, he would stop at nothing to get the combination. Cameron had urged Ben to change the number, thinking she had floored Andy. But he became increasingly violent, and, fearing for her own welfare, she had fled to her sister's house in New Jersey. She had quit her old job and picked up her fellowship here, and she hadn't heard from Andy or Ben since. It caused her to wonder what had transpired in her absence to cause Andy to resurface after all this time and harass her for the combination. Had Ben died? Cameron didn't want to even speculate about it.

The elevator beeped, and stopped. Hastily, Cameron pressed the 'close' button before anyone else could step in, and pressed the button for the floor she really wanted. It opened and she stepped out, having composed herself wonderfully.

Their office was fully occupied, to her dismay. Chase and Foreman were pottering about in the ante-office, while House was talking on the phone in his. She planted a smile on her face and walked in, the picture of cheerfulness. Obviously she was good at it, because no one even suspected that there may be something amiss with her.

"Taking Cameron's two weeks, Chase?" House called from the door. Chase waved the comment off, and House scowled.

"So I am going to have to get a replacement," he said.

"Surely we can manage for two weeks?" Foreman said. Cameron remembered Chase's strange request, and met his eyes. Her deadline for 'thinking' was almost up. In light of the event that had occurred not ten minutes before, Cameron's mind did a backflip in its reasoning. She gave a short nod to Chase, who grinned in response.

"I hope that means what I think it means," Chase said discreetly.

"Yep," she said. "What have we got to lose?"

-----------

Cuddy was not stupid enough to ring from work.

She had mulled over the events of the past few days. The one word that kept returning to haunt her thoughts was 'vulnerable'. Something she had never had cause to consider herself before now. Brian had definitely had the upper hand… why? Well, the gun pointed at their heads was a clue. Her mind latched on to that. How could she protect herself if the situation ever arose again? Her niece was also a motivator in the course of action Cuddy was dwelling on. The girl had a mind as sharp as a tack, and on many occasions had had her Aunt splitting her sides laughing. Just that day, Cuddy had been forced to bite the inside of her mouth to keep herself from laughing at the combined antics of Rachel and House. They were a good match, those two, she thought, humour lighting up her eyes just at the thought.

The girl was sitting in front of the television at the moment, brown hair pulled back loosely out of her face. Cuddy watched her discreetly, she was glad her niece had visited; she needed a break from her tumultuous school and home life. Cuddy's brother was a businessman in Nebraska somewhere, and had little time to spend with his daughter. They never spoke of Rachel's mother. Cuddy had no idea what had happened to her, and had never had the will to broach the topic. The girl was surprisingly well held together, despite this, and always had a smile on her face and a joke on her tongue. She was refreshing to be around. Cuddy's feelings for the girl suddenly got the better of her. She would not be able to live with herself should something happen to her. It would be so easy for some madman to break into their home and hurt them both. And it would be entirely her fault forbeing unprepared for theevent, were it forthcoming.Cuddy retreated into her office and picked up the phone.

"Jen? Yeah, it's Lisa. Look, I need a favour."


	4. Vortex

**A/N: Ah, well no reviews for chapter three, but onwards and upwards, troops! Everyone's gotta start somewhere! I hope at least one person is enjoying this, for if that is so, this is doubly worth it! (doubly because I'm enjoying writing it!) Have a good night, everyone. Uhm - the quote at the start is from the song Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls. :D And I don't own the computer I'm typ - oh wait. I do. Never mind. **

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* * *

Chapter 4: Vortex**

"_A__nd you can't fight the tears that ain't coming  
Or the moment of truth in your lies  
When everything feels like the movies  
Yeah, you'd bleed just to know you're alive..."_

The next Monday, and Chase's word was kept. They were both prepared for the flight to Chase's home country. Despite her misgivings about the trip, Cameron was rather looking forward to visiting a foreign country.

"It's really not too different," Chase put a dampener on her excitement. "It's just kind of a smaller version of America." Then he wrinkled his nose, as if dissatisfied with the vague explanation. "Well, not really. It's hard to describe. But there's no huge culture difference. Not like Hong Kong or some country like that. It's just…" he shrugged, at a loss for further words.

Hours later, they touched down in Sydney. Chase's eyes were alight, he was ecstatic to see the city again.

"It's been so long!" he said as they got off the plane. "You know what I want?" he asked, turning to Cameron.

"What?" she asked, humouring him.

"I want a vegemite sandwich! And a cold Milo!"

Cameron laughed. "Sounds dubious," she replied.

"Not so!" he said. "Come on, let's traipse to Darling Harbour. Taronga Zoo, the Opera House, the Harbour Bridge…"

She stopped him. "I don't know if you've noticed the huge suitcase on the end of your arm, but I've noticed mine. Where does this cousin of yours live? And while we're on that topic, does she even know you're coming?"

"Nope!" he said, grinning. "Doesn't have a clue."

"What if she's…" Cameron clamped her mouth shut, then changed her tack. "Moved?"

Chase smiled. "You were going to say dead, weren't you? Come on then, we'll save Sydney's highlights for another day."

She nodded, staring around. "It _is_ different." she said. Chase looked at her. "I can't explain it," she continued, shrugging. "It's a different vibe."

Chase snorted with laughter at her choice of words. "'It's the vibe of the thing,'" he quoted.

"What?" she asked, perplexed.

Chase grinned. "Never mind. Aussie movie reference."

She shook her head at his antics and hefted her suitcase higher, getting a better grip.

"So where does this cousin live?"

Chase grinned yet again. "Want to take the train or the bus?"

------------

"You let them both have two weeks off at the same time? Besides the fact that it is inefficient… it's a little quirky! "

Cuddy sighed and rolled her eyes. "Well now you put it like that…"

He glared at her. "Fine," he said. "You're choosing who replaces them. I'll be damned if I'm put through a bunch of people telling me how cool I would be as a boss, or how much they just want to 'do the world a favour' or how…"

"I get it," she said stridently.

There was a rap on her door, and two sharply dressed, stern-faced men strode into the room without waiting for the okay. House refrained from the obvious witticisms to be made from this development.

"Lisa Cuddy?" one of the men asked.

"Yes?" she replied, standing up.

"We have a warrant to search your office, and anywhere else, if necessary."

The news slammed into her, and sent her nerves on a trip around her body.

"May I ask what this is concerning?"

House jumped in. "May_ I_ ask to see that warrant?" He had his suspicions.

The first man regarded him coolly.

"Sure," he replied, and handed over the piece of paper. He turned to Cuddy as House perused the document.  
"We have had a complaint that you are harbouring an unlicensed weapon in your office."

House raised an eyebrow at Cuddy, but only for effect.

"Detectives, excuse my presumption for a second… but do indulge me."

The older man stopped his search and waited for House to continue, while the younger one kept rummaging through the numerous cabinets and counters.

"Why is a detective of your apparent prestige searching an office for an unregistered gun?"

The detective wrinkled his nose. "I'm at liberty to divulge details regarding the investigation. However I can tell you that the piece of weaponry is suspected to be part of an illegal arms dealer's ring."

Cuddy blanched, face white. Her hands were clutched together. House had never seen her this nervous. The pieces fell together.

_She does have one! _He could have laughed. Their encounter with 'Brian' on Friday must have rattled her more than House thoughts.

"Illegal arms dealer?" he muttered out of the side of his mouth to her. She implored him with her eyes, but he didn't know what he was asking her. Truth be known, neither did she. Not to leave, maybe? In any case, he did not.

She was scared. If what the detective said was true, then she could be in big trouble. She would definitely lose her position at the hospital, and the extras were unthinkable!

It was here, they'd find it. She was stupid, stupid to have brought it with her, but to leave it at home with Rachel was really not desirable.

_Nor was being dragged off in cuffs_, she thought miserably.

"Here it is," the younger detective said, placing the gun in a plastic bag, and turning to his superior, who inspected it. He sighed heavily.

"Not the one we were looking for." Cuddy breathed a discreet sigh of relief. "Nonetheless, you are still in trouble, doctor. Unregistered, no license…"

House jumped in, not liking the man's pushy nature. "So _that's_ where I left that old thing!" he said. "Dr. Cuddy! Why didn't you remind me?"

"It was so long ago," she said, jumping on the excuse, against her better judgement.

"Sorry detectives, the gun belongs to me. I know, I know, it's unregistered…but…" He sighed. "I guess it slipped my mind."

"You can't prove it belongs to you!"

"I have papers," he bluffed.  
"Oh?" the older man said, raising an eyebrow. "Papers for an _unregistered_ weapon?"

"Well of course I don't mean official papers," he said, rolling his eyes. "Papers from the guy who sold it to me. It was aaaaages ago," he said, extending the word. "In Nevada, I think." House paused, for effect. "Or maybe it was Nebraska. I really don't remember." He shrugged. "I do have a license, however."

The detective scowled. He was not used to performing mundane duties such as chasing up gun licenses. He had been sure that their informant (consequently the secretary of the accused) had described the weapon they had been after for seven months. It had been involved in a robbery and two murders, so it was highly sought after.

"Get the alleged 'papers' along with your gun license and a truckload of ID and proof of anything else even remotely related to this and hand it in to the station by the end of business today. And you're not getting the weapon back."

House sighed and made to complain, knowing if he gave up the weapon too easily, he'd give the game away, but the detective jumped in.

"Save it," he said wearily. "No arguments."

House nodded, as if chastened, and fell silent, waving glibly to the detectives as they left the room with the gun. Cuddy sighed in sheer relief and fell back into her chair. She looked at House, who had flipped out his Vicodin bottle and was dosing up.

"Thanks," she said.

"You bought a gun?" he asked. "Tsk tsk."

She shook her head. "I had my reasons."

"Is that delightfully helpful girl from last week one of those?"

She looked at him. "Yeah. Also the whole 'I'm going to kill you' thing on Friday."

"Mm," he said. "Things like that tend to do that, don't they? Thank god Foreman wasn't there or he would have gone AWOL on me as well."

"Yeah, thank god for that," she said dryly. She paused. "Why do you have a gun license?"

He gave her a superior look. "Tis a screwed up world in which we reside," he recited.

"No kidding," she said wearily.

He paused.  
"Did you _get_ any papers with that thing, perchance?"

She shook her head. "Looks like you're going to have to do some fast scribbling."

He grimaced. "Fun fun. But was it Nevada or Nebraska?" he asked. She managed a weak grin in his direction.

"Don't you have clinic duty or something?"

A thought hit him. "Didn't you just have an illegal weapon in your possession…or something?"

She scowled at him, but really it was the least she could do to repay him and was more than happy to alleviate him of the task.

"I'll have someone else fix that up," she said. He grinned.

"I knew I was the best bullshit artist in the world for _some_ reason…" he said, before turning to leave. He stopped, and turned, however, as if remembering something.

"Oh, and Cuddy?"

"Mm?"

"You might want to fire your secretary."


	5. And What Do You Get?

**Hi! Terribly sorry it's taken so long, went back to school last week, stuff caught up with me for once!**

* * *

**Chapter 5: And What Do You Get?**

"The landscape is beautiful!"

The two were traveling on a train that was hurtling through fields upon fields of golden canola, waving serenely, seemingly in greeting at them.

Chase turned his head and looked at his colleague.

"Are you serious?" he said, scoffing at the scene Cameron was advocating. "Have you never been to Alaska? Or any of the other breathtaking places in _your _country? Obviously not, if you're enamoured with canola!"

She didn't take her eyes from the window.

"It makes a change from the grey bleakness of the city."

Chase nodded. "That's one thing we don't have here," he said. "At least in my experience. Grey cities. No matter where you go, people always…" He trailed off, at a loss for the right way to explain his observation. "There aren't really that many cities, anyway. And there are slum areas in all of them, just like where we just came from. But the general feeling is far different."

Cameron tore her eyes from the fields. "So where would you rather live?"

Chase smiled. "Well I'm living in the US, aren't I?"

She considered his answer. "Why?"

A strange look crossed the blonde doctor's face. "Originally, I suppose, the reason behind it was always my father. To get out from under his shadow, putting it simply. Even though at that stage he had sway in the US as well. But there are greater opportunities to…" He gave up and shrugged. "I really can't answer your question. All I know is it's great to be home."

"I would imagine so," she replied.

"So how are we doing?" he asked after a while. She turned to him.

"What do you mean?"

"For spontaneity. Can you get more spontaneous?"

"Well you could, but this is as good as we could get."

Chase nodded. "Yeah. I have to warn you though; there are no beaches where we're headed."

"Who said I wanted to go to a beach?"

"I meant it figuratively as well. I'm not sure what your whacky sense of 'beauty' would find enchanting in the rural-but-not-rural atmosphere of where we're going."

"Where _are_ we going?" she asked. "And more importantly, are we there yet?"

"Almost." He pulled out a booklet from the back of the seat in front of him, and opened it up.

"Okay," he said. "This state is called New South Wales."

"Yeah. I got that part," she said dryly. He grinned.

"Just making sure. That's Sydney."

"Wow. I never would have guessed on account of the huge black dot that says Sydney. It's your capital, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Canberra."

"That's right," she said, smacking herself on the head. "I know I read that somewhere."

"You get the feeling that Canberra is a scenic city. That its there 'just for'."

"Interesting," she said. "Continue with the geography lesson."

"The place we're after is called 'Wagga Wagga."

"And you lived here, right?"

He shook his head. "Nope. My cousin moved here from Melbourne quite a few years ago."

"Okay," she said. "How long till we're there?"

"Well we just went through Yass so we should be there in about 2 and a half hours or so."

She sat back in the seat. He smiled.

"Things are a bit further a-field out here, for another difference. And we tend to randomly stick the letter 'u' in words. But I assure you," he said, grinning. "you won't hear anyone say 'G'day'."

----------------

"Two down, one to go!" Wilson said, coming into House's office. House looked at his watch. He was waiting for Wilson to finish up what he was doing, as the oncologist had given him a lift in today, talking him out of riding in the torrent of rain that had not let up since Friday. It was nearly 6pm, Tuesday, and Cuddy had still not sent him two replacements. In retrospect, he probably didn't really need them all, he had no cases at the moment, as he had deliberately been trying to avoid them due to his 'skeleton' crew. This was not for lack of Foreman trying though. The last three the neurologist had tried to fob off on him, House diagnosed in five minutes. He suspected that Foreman could have as well, if he put his mind to it, and that the doctor was just fishing for something to do. House couldn't really blame him; he just wished he'd go find something to do somewhere else.

"Don't you have a home to go to, or something?" House said. "Oh no, that's right, you don't. I do though, as you have probably noticed, on account of you hanging around incessantly Is it the air freshener?"

Wilson ignored the dry tone to his friend's voice as he planted his butt in one of the chairs opposite.

"You were saying? Did you have a plan to pop Foreman off?" House continued.

Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"We'll pair him off with Cuddy and make them both go home."

House looked at him. "Cuddy's still here?"

"Does that surprise you? It's not that late."

"No," House agreed. "But the niece should be motivation for her to pack up and get out of here early. Who's watching her?"

"She's seventeen."

"I know," he said.

"Question is," Wilson replied. "How do you know about her at all?"

"How do you?"

"Cuddy mentioned it."

"Why would she not have mentioned it to me?"

"Haven't you noticed?"

"You'll have to elaborate."

"She's been avoiding you since Friday."

It was the first time Wilson had made a reference to the incident and House watched him carefully. It was the perfect opportunity, he mused to himself, almost subconsciously, for him to psycho-analyse his associates to pieces, which, for some reason, he quite enjoyed. Cameron had given him little joy, and Chase had run off and left before House could goad him about it, but the fact that they both took two weeks of did say something. He wondered what had made Cameron change her mind about taking the two weeks off, and why they so inexplicably coincided with Chase's. He shook his head and turned his thoughts back to the present.

"Hmm," House said. "Are you sure it was Friday she's been avoiding me since?"

Wilson frowned slightly.

"Hang on," he retorted. "Let me check my diary. I distinctly remember jotting it down…"

"You didn't hear, did you?" House said, momentarily delighted.

"Apparently not."

House grinned, loving the opportunity to rat on his boss.

"Cuddy nearly got arrested!" he said dramatically.

Wilson laughed. "Uh huh."

"No, seriously!"

Wilson frowned. "Dead set?"

House nodded.

"What for? And how come this didn't reach me through the grapevine?"

"Because there were only two people present. Tell me, Wilson, did Cuddy fire her secretary?"

Wilson thought about it. "I think she did mention that. So her and the secretary were there? She had a big mouth though, I would've heard."

"Don't be so sure. I have a big mouth, and you haven't heard till now." House smiled, loving to confuse the sometimes self-righteous Wilson.

"What's your point?"

House grinned.

"You were the other person?" Wilson said. "And why have I only heard this news now?"

"It slipped my mind. And it was only yesterday."

"Do share with the class."

"Illegal possession of an unregistered weapon without a license," House said blandly.

Wilson gaped. "What? Surely they were mistaken?"

"Nope," he said, then corrected himself. "Well, one of the detectives was quite put out when he found that the gun wasn't the one he was looking for."

"How the hell did she manage to wriggle out of that one? She would have been frying!"

"You are forgetting that I was in the room when this happened," House said with a self indulgent grin.  
"Of course," Wilson said, hating fuelling the man's ego. "And by what miracle did you save the day?"

"Oh you know, the usual doctor-lawyer-Indian Chief kinda stuff."

"Ah, of course," Wilson said, wondering why he would not divulge anything more. House allowed a smile to play on his face when he recalled taking some quickly authenticated papers down to the cop shop. They weren't really fussed with him, taking the papers and promising to hand them over to the detective House specified. Of course he specified the one who had come into Cuddy's office – he seemed to so enjoy the menial tasks!

House eyed Wilson.

"Why did you think she was avoiding me?"

Wilson seemed reluctant to say, wishing he'd never brought up the subject, but, with House, things seldom remained sacred for long. He opened his mouth.

"Don't tell me it's been her sending those 'I heart House' love letters," House jibed.

Wilson grinned, content to leave it at House's witticism, but it was not to be, as the man opposite gestured for him to continue.

"Think about it," he said. "You're sitting in your nice, fire heated office and you get called up fifty flights of stairs…"

"There's this new invention, 'elevator' I think they called it," House said, disturbed when he discovered where Wilson was going. But his friend had opened the gate and was going to finish what he was saying.

"… only to find, in some cold, dingy office, some guy with a gun in her face. Naturally she's going to subconsciously connect the two."

"Subconsciously?" House said. "Things are rarely as subconscious as we think they are."

"How poignant of you," Wilson muttered wearily.

"So she blames me for putting her in danger."

"You're looking at it in black and white."

"No, I think I see some red in there. Could it be the prophesised blood on my carpet? You know that Brian guy should really look at a career in fortune telling."

Wilson detected the hint of bitterness in House's voice, and knew that the guilt of the night had been playing on his mind, as it was even as House was refusing to dial the phone. House wished that he had been as sure as Cameron professed to be in gauging the man's level of sanity. He was still puzzling over her strange words to him. _He was a perfect shot. You could see his hand; he knew what he was doing. As upset as he was, if it was his intent to kill, he would have done so._

But how did she know that it was not his intent? Although she denied answering his question at the time, reading between the lines, she had given him the bare bones of one. She _was _experienced when it came to reading people in that kind of situation. But what occupation or situation could lead to _that _kind of experience? She didn't seem the 'radical', far out person that would normally be associated with such experience. But then he remembered the man who has been hassling her the previous morning. He was rugged, he was… House struggled to find a word that could explain what he was trying to sum up about the character. But what he did notice was the tension between them, which had nothing to do with the monster grip the brawny, black haired man had had on Cameron's arm. House felt he'd fallen into an espionage novel, undercover agent posing as a doctor… cockroach from her past come to haunt her about some 'combination'… House laughed inwardly, he needed either caffeine or sleep; preferably both.

"House?" Wilson said, jerking the doctor out of his reverie.  
"What?"

Wilson looked at him strangely. "What were you thinking about?"

House inhaled deeply. "Birds," he decided. "White ones."

"Doves?"

"No," House replied, standing. "Geese."

Wilson stood also, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Of course you were," he muttered as they filed out of the room.


End file.
